Love Doesn't Hurt
by Fez Kicks Ass
Summary: The basement gang notice some changes in Fez when he start dating his first American girlfriend. Set in season 1. In the process of a re-write. Rated M for language and themes.


Fez's alarm clock rang at six A.M. on the morning of Friday, April 29, 1977. It had little effect; he was already wide awake in his race car-shaped bed. The combination of throbbing pain in his face and torso and the feelings of shame and fear that stirred inside him had made sleep all but impossible. With a groan, he dragged himself out of bed and walked over to his dresser. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The bruises that had pained him all night long appeared to have gotten bigger.

"Oh, God," Fez muttered nervously as he felt himself starting to panic. How the hell was he going to explain these? These were very conspicuous injuries that would surely draw stares, rumors, judgment, and ridicule. This wasn't like last month when he was able to easily convince people that his index finger was in a splint because he'd accidentally slammed it in the car door. Or a few weeks before that when he told the gang that the Band-Aid on his forearm was from donating blood. What possible reason could he give for all these marks on his body that would satisfy everyone's curiosity while still keeping them from discovering the degrading truth? There was no time think about that now; he'd just come up with an explanation on the fly as he'd done with all the other injuries. If anyone asked why he seemed to being having trouble fully opening his left eye today, he'd just tell them it was the result of sty. That looked and sounded plausible, right?

He opened his dresser drawer and began to get dressed. Against his usual practice, he put on a white undershirt under his button-down shirt to better ensure that none of the bruises on his chest and back were inadvertantly revealed. It had been unusually warm in Point Place lately and the undershirt would be hotter than hell, but it was, in his mind, a small price to pay for concealment of his horrible secret. After dressing in a long-sleeve black and white polka-dotted shirt and gray slacks and momentarily reminiscing of a time not so long ago when he could wear short-sleeved shirts because there were no bruises to hide, he looked at himself in the mirror and gave himself the same pep talk he'd given himself for the past few months.

"You can do this," Fez told his reflection. "Just go to school and act normal, and no one will suspect a thing."

With that, he smiled. He felt the tears of humiliation well up in his eyes, but he stubbornly willed them away. It was important that he appear as normal as possible to his friends and classmates. If he felt the need to cry at any point during the school day, he could simply request permission to use the restroom. Right now, it was important that he appear as normal as possible to his friends and classmates. He went downstairs and had a fairly uneventful breakfast of Quaker oatmeal with his host parents before driving to school. The drive to school, like breakfast, went smoothly and without incident. When he pulled into his usual spot at Point Place High, he saw Eric getting out of the Vista Cruiser a few spaces away.

"Just play it cool," Fez told himself when he spotted Eric waving. "Don't act upset and he won't suspect anything."

"Hey, Fez!" Eric said cheerfully as Fez walked over to him.

"Hi, Eric," he responded, mentally congratulating himself for making sure his voice didn't betray his feelings of angst and fear.

"So, how was your date with Diane the other night?" Eric asked with a sly grin.

Fez felt his heart starting to race. Diane! The one person whose name he had hoped to get through one day with his friends mentioning. Panic was setting in. He needed to out. Before he could excuse himself, Eric stepped closer.

"What happened to your eye?" Eric inquired. "It looks swollen."

"A sty," Fez blurted out as his anxiety level neared a fever pitch. "I have a sty. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to use the bathroom. See you in class."

He dashed into the school building and down the hall into the boys' bathroom. Luckily, no one was using the facilities at the time. He entered a stall and locked the door behind him. He sat on the toilet and broke down crying. How long could he keep this secret? How long could he take Diane's abuse and still keep up the charade of being in love with her? The truth as that he was more frightened of her cruelty than that of the entire football team. At least with the football team, he knew they were going to kick his ass. They were mean but predictable. And if he was crafty enough, he could sometimes avoid them altogether. Diane was far less stable. She was kind and affectionate one minute, then vindictive and violent the next. Although, Fez noticed, she was always nice to him when other people were watching. When they were alone, it was a very different story.

Their last date did not end well. He took Diane to a small Italian restaurant near Kenosha. The meal itself was fine, but the drive back to Point Place was a nightmare . As much he had been trying to block it out for the past week, the memory of that drive flooded back into Fez's mind in a terrifying rush. All the way home, she repeatedly accused him of flirting with the petite brunette waitress who had served them earlier. They argued right up until he dropped her off at her house, at which time Diane seemed to have a sudden change of heart.

******

_"Thanks," she said sweetly as they pulled up to her front door. "Well, don't I at least get a kiss goodbye?"_

_Hoping the kiss would smooth things over, Fez leaned in. Without warning, he felt her right fist connect sharply with his left eye, emitting a horrifyingly loud smack that echoed through the night air and knocking him backwards. He thought she had blinded him. He felt his eye to make sure it was still there, and thankfully it was. And he could still see._

_"That's for making eyes other women," she said calmfully but forcefully as she entered her front door. "If it ever happens again, I'll take both your fucking eyes out. Piece of foreign shit."_

*******

He began to mull it over in his mind. He knew he needed to tell someone, but who? He wanted to tell the gang, but what if they only mocked him and revoked their friendship? They were his only real friends since he came to America as an exchange student. They were the only people in school around whom he didn't have to feel self-conscious for being a foreigner. And his host parents were out of the question; the Erdmans paid very little attention to him as it was. All they seemed to care about was their image as upstanding, God-fearing Christians who viewed disco and rock music as being "of the devil". He was continuing to go through a mental checklist of people he could and could not tell when the bell signalling the start of homeroom brought him back to reality. As he'd done nearly every morning for the past two months he'd been dating Diane, he dried his eyes with the rough boys' room toilet paper and left the stall to face the world. In his culture, it was said that everything, good or bad, happened for a reason. But what could he have possibly done to deserve this horrible abuse at the hands of someone who was supposed to love him?


End file.
